The Military Ball
by Fluorescens
Summary: An angsty oneshot that I wrote on FMA. Jean X Riza X Roy. With a tiny bit of Fuery X Sheska.


Another one-shot that I wrote; lost and forgotten in the drawers of my notebook. :p

I dedicate this to all Havoc/Riza/Roy worshippers. Isn't love triangles one of the greatest things in the world :)

And to Parsnip, who wanted Fuery/Sheska but they didn't end up as main characters... woe is me.

* * *

Havoc stared at the prettily embossed card and bit on his cigarette as the rain continued to pelt against the big glass window panes that the Colonel took care to wipe it every hour or so. He snuck a quiet glance around the office and realized that the reactions towards the Military Ball were mixed. 

The Colonel was overtly excited, in which the reason was obvious to Havoc. He suspected that Breda was only too happy about the free flow of alcohol and that _no_ dogs would be allowed into the ballroom. Falman chucked the card into the wastebasket and returned to his work quietly, while Fuery simply frowned at the elegant letters and the accompanying champagne ribbon on the card.

His gaze finally returned to Riza, _oh, his Riza_, and found that she had no expression on her face, which was pretty much in accordance with her usual behaviour (other than the occasional pointed yet polite arguments with the Colonel). The First Lieutenant simply slid the invitation card back into its cream envelope, kept it inside her drawer and returned to work as if nothing had happened.

"Finally! A ball!" The seemingly-pompous Colonel jumped right out from his seat, took on an expressive stance and gave his stiff collar a flick, "All of you must attend this glorious function with me! We shall have fun, drinks, women and men!"

"Colonel, I have something on that night," Falman said quietly but the Colonel seemed not to have notice him. Breda laughed out loud and joined the Colonel, "Yes! Free alcohol! Whisky, rum, wine and what-not!"

Riza remained unmoved and Havoc cleared his throat while he stood up, "Colonel, who would you be bringing?"

The Colonel pursed his lips and frowned a little, "Hmm... this is a difficult question indeed..." in which he promptly took out his little phone book which was stashed away in his hidden breast-pocket and flipped through the pages meticulously, "Let me see..."

The Second Lieutenant felt like pushing the Colonel out into the pouring rain and put a bullet through his thick skull.

The phone rang, the Colonel went to pick up the call happily, his expression changed from joyous to irritation and everyone could hear Hughes' voice as Roy placed the receiver a good three inches away from his ear.

"Maes, STOP telling me about Elycia!" The Colonel shouted and groaned out loud, "Isn't there a way to do alchemy over damned phones!"

Havoc shrugged his shoulders, took his seat and another sniper-like peek at Riza; she remained buried in her work with not even a strand of hair out from her tight bun. But, he thought the way she held her pen was way too tight and too forceful.

"Sir?" Fuery asked.

Roy ignored Hughes continuous bleating over his daughter and quirked his eyebrow up, "Yes?"

"Can I... br-, bring someone?"

The other eyebrow went up and a mischievous smile lit up the Colonel's face, "OF COURSE! Who is she?"

Fuery mumbled something unintelligible, in which no one caught it and Roy returned to the phone with a louder snarling voice and more threats to burn the caller's throat. Havoc did _not_ sigh and returned to his endless paperwork; he did not have the guts to ask her to the ball, and he doubted that she would consent.

Life was as dull and miserable as the rain which continued outside.

* * *

"Fuery," Havoc tapped on his shoulder and the little man turned around startled, "Havoc!"

He bent a little, rested his head beside Fuery's and looked in the direction where he had been staring dazedly at, "Ah..."

Fuery coughed a little and frowned hard, "What?"

Havoc smiled and sent a puff of smoke into his face, "Sheska. You want her to be your date?"

Fuery's cough seemed to have gotten worse, for both obvious and hidden causes and denied as vehemently as Havoc could recall, "No! It's not like that! I, I... I was just admiring her dress!"

Havoc leaned forward, straightened his black-rimmed glasses, turned Fuery back and gave a firm whack on his shoulder, "I heard from Hughes that she's holding a torch for someone in our group. And coming from Hughes..."

Fuery let out a choking cough while his face went as pale as Sheska's white dress, "Our... our group?"

Havoc nodded, "Yeah. And I suspect its someone small and cute and smart..."

The Sergeant Major's face went as red as a tomato and he mumbled, "It can't be me..."

Havoc groaned a little and gave a soft kick in his butt, "Who else is small and cute!"

Fuery stumbled forward as he turned around and glared, "Havoc! Stop it-"

"Second Lieutenant? Sergeant Major?"

Both men turned to Sheska, who was now standing beside Fuery while she cocked her head to one side, "Er.. is anything wrong sirs?"

Havoc waved his hand and smiled broadly, "Ah nothing! Fuery was just consulting with me on how he should ask you for a dance!"

Sheska blushed hard; Fuery glared daggers at his superior while Havoc tapped his cigarette against the rim of his empty glass and walked away with a smirk on his face. When he turned his head around, he was glad that the two were making small talk and smiling shyly at each other.

_And envious, too_, the Second Lieutenant admitted that to himself as he bypassed groups of laughing officers who were either too drunk with either women or alcohol, or both. He had always prided himself as silent and dull enough not to have anyone notice him (for this is the first and topmost priority of a top-notch sniper) nor his emotions. Sometimes he wondered whether he was too silent and too dull because the woman he desired most did _not_ seem to care about him at all.

_Or maybe_ he _is just too loud_, Havoc grumbled to himself when he saw his Colonel being surrounded by a bunch of female officers dressed in flirty gowns that were too revealing for his preference. He agreed with Roy on the mini-skirt policy but would never want to see Riza in one. He shook his head, hid his empty glass behind a nearby potted plant, wondered where Breda was and snagged another glass of wine from a nearby waiter's tray. While he was tipping the sweet port into his mouth, he found her.

Riza was standing right across the ballroom from him, half-leaning against a carved pillar, partially hidden by the Colonel and his group of admirers and other officers who were either decked in their tuxedos or carefully ironed military uniforms.

But he did not move towards her, and remained in his position, as still as he could and observed her from afar.

Her expression belied nothing, as the Colonel joked, laughed and spread his masculine, irresistible, powerful charm around. She was wearing a simple conservative dress, the blue was as dark as her usual military uniform and her hair was up in a tight bun. She wore no makeup, no accessories, and he suspected that she had her guns hiding beneath that loose dress. Riza was holding a glass too, but made no movements to empty the contents nor move away from her spot.

The First Lieutenant seemed contented enough, just to stand there and observe the Colonel flirting around, the way he himself was standing opposite them and observing her in return.

Havoc smiled bitterly to himself; he knew that the Colonel was the only person in her field of vision tonight. He had taken care to press his uniform too, and made sure that he did not look too scruffy, still, nothing caught her eye the way _he_ did. Many times, Havoc wondered what Riza liked about Roy. Was it his charm? Was it the guilt that he had from the Ishbal war? Or was it his fierce determination to rise through the ranks, with his ever-selfish yet noble goal to become the Fuhrer as the motivation behind it?

He gulped down the port, threw his cigarette into the empty glass, and took another glass when another waiter passed by and offered. He wondered how long she would stand there, as silent as him, as inconspicuous as him? And even so, he thought that she looked gorgeous, in her own strong yet silent way. Riza, would always be the most beautiful woman to him, with her skills, with her loyalty and devotion to Roy, with her fierce instructions to Black Hayate and with her frowns and commands to the rest of them, which included his incessant smoking.

The way her small glasses perch on her nose, the way she cleaned and loaded her guns, the way she walked and ate, the way she talked and sometimes smiled when Roy looked away... All these images were imprinted in Havoc's mind, and it hurt him every time he remembered or dreamt about her. Sometimes, sometimes, he wished that he would be transferred to other department or to other Colonels, just so that he would not have to see her unspoken, quiet love for Roy everyday.

The Colonel was eventually being dragged away by another group of female officers and he noticed that her vision followed him, as far as it could until he disappeared behind another group of high-ranking male officers. Havoc lighted another cigarette and decided that he would go and talk to her, because she did not have to feel this way this night.

He strode to her and when her eyes focused on him, he put on a lazy smile and cocked his head to one side, "First Lieutenant."

Riza looked mildly surprised and nodded in the formal way that she always did, "Havoc."

The Second Lieutenant took his position beside the Number One sniper, "I didn't think that you'll come."

She finally sipped her wine, "The Colonel ordered me."

Havoc nodded and let the wine swirl around his tongue; she always answered to the point, and nothing else. "I see. By the way, you really look good in this dress."

Riza took a big mouthful of wine, allowed it to settle against her throat and replied firmly, "Don't tease me Havoc. I'm still your superior."

He smiled again, "Ah yes sir! I wonder where is the Colonel...?"

She emptied her glass, "With the women, as usual."

Havoc kept quiet, took the glass from her, returned with another two glasses of whisky and passed one to her, "First Lieutenant, this blue suits you."

Riza smiled and gulped down the whisky in one shot, "I am afterall a dog of the military."

Havoc took a side glance at her; her cheeks were pink and she was smiling languidly. He finished his whisky, walked to her front, took her empty glass and bowed, "Would the First Lieutenant care to grant me a dance?"

Riza's eyes widened a bit, "Havoc... I.. I don't know how to..."

He placed the glasses on the floor and stretched his hand out, "Me too. But we can still enjoy ourselves, isn't it?"

After a good minute of noisy silence between them, she smiled and took his hand, "Ok. But I'll shoot you if we make a fool of ourselves."

With the cigarette still dangling on his lips, Havoc smiled and led her to the crowded dance floor wordlessly. Of course, both of them were honest about the fact that they could not dance and with much foot-stepping, muffled curses, and a good amount of laughing from too-much-alcohol and warm fuzziness in their heads, they began to sway slowly to the tune, ever keeping their bodies respectfully away from each other.

From the corner of his eyes, Havoc could see Fuery and Sheska dancing, in the cutest and most innocent way, and the Colonel getting too intimate with a bimbo-looking female officer at a far corner. Riza noticed that too, but said nothing as she closed her eyes and allowed her Second Lieutenant to guide her. Right now, she could not be bothered with keeping appearances and even though her legs felt a little wobbly and buttery, she knew that Havoc would not let her fall. Because the trust was developed and honed through years of working with him, and she knew of his secret feelings towards her, even though she also knew they would go unrequited and unreturned.

The tune changed to a slower one, and Roy had disappeared with the tipsy female officer. Havoc silently sighed again, and looked down at the woman he was holding in his arms. Riza by now was leaning against him, with another half-emptied glass of alcohol (he already could not differentiate between wine and whisky) in her hand as she dragged her feet around.

"Riza? Shall we go back?" Havoc had forgotten to address her formally.

The First Lieutenant shook her head as her bun loosened a bit, "I feel hot and cold..."

Havoc pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her as they continued to move their feet slowly to the tune, "Still cold?"

She mumbled something, but did not push him away. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the melancholy romantic music, or perhaps it was a sudden outpouring of long-held emotions, he clumsily and bravely took out the restraining hairpins from her head. Her hair cascaded down to his hand that was placed on her waist, and he thought that it was so soft and so silky, so unlike the steely and rigid Riza that he dealt with daily. Havoc took the glass away from her, threw his cigarette in, somehow passed it to a drunk Breda who lumbered by, and rested his chin on top of her head.

"Riza... are you sad...?" He asked, because he felt it.

"No... why would I be?" She laughed a little, and thought that he was being too acute, "Just a little tipsy."

Havoc closed his eyes, wished that the tune would go on forever because he doubted that he would have another chance to hold her that close again. He knew that she was upset, heart-broken and disappointed, but there was nothing he could do for her. And he blamed himself; for not being able to be honest and upfront with his feelings, for not being able to tell the Colonel off, for not being able to give florid speech like him, for not being able to comfort and assure her, for not being able to-

"Jean, are you sad?" Her voice sounded sadder than her question.

All thoughts of self-blame were thrown out from the window at her rhetorical question. Havoc thought for a while, as best as he could with the alcohol-drowned mind and answered honestly, "Yes. I think so."

Riza buried her face into his shoulder; he smelled like Roy. The smoke, the masculinity, the hidden sadness and grief that would not leave them, and she thought that if, if she ever tried, and if she had not met Roy first, she might like Havoc too.

Because he was so similar to Roy in a way, when the both of them were stripped down naked and every part of their soul bared to the world. Yet, they were so different too, in a vast, expansive, and terrible way.

Riza squeezed her eyes shut; she wished that it was Roy who was holding her so tenderly, wished that it was Roy who asked her that question, wished that it was Roy's voice that she was hearing. Roy, Roy, and _Roy_-

"Why?" She asked.

He blew out an imaginary ring of smoke, "Why?" He hesitated for a while, "Because I love someone, and she doesn't even like me."

She frowned a little and thought of many things that were too complicated for her drowsy brain to understand and analyze. So she took a deep breath of him, and gave a reassuring smile that he would not get to see.

"Then she's not worth it." And soundlessly cried into his shoulder.

He knew that she was crying, and tightened his grip over her shoulders, "Then is he worth it?"

Riza felt like pulling out her guns and put a fatal bullet through both _their_ heads. If the both of them died, she would not feel wretched or hurt anymore. She could never return Jean's feelings, and never did know when Roy would notice her. She was not supposed to be like that too, being a grandaughter of Hawkeye's family and a First Lieutenant under the Flame Alchemist Colonel. She was supposed to be cool, devoid of as much emotions as possible because she needed to kill, to protect, be precise, firm and straight to the point.

She was not supposed to be embroiled in this furtive triangle. _Not like this, not like this... _ She chanted to herself as her intuitions told her that she was falling into a bottomless pit, a trap that somehow had been woven for Roy, Jean and herself.

The tune stopped, and Riza pulled away as officers shuffled around for the next dance, "Jean. I'm sorry."

Havoc watched her walk away, with her long hair covering her trembling shoulders, with her legs shaking and Ross rushing over to help her up, and thought that her back view looked as lonely as his.

"Havoc!" Roy leaned heavily against his First Lieutenant and laughed, "Enjoying yourself?"

He turned and looked at his Colonel, who was terribly drunk with lipstick marks on his face and answered stoically, "Yes Sir."

* * *

The next day, everyone pretended that nothing had ever happened. Breda had taken a day of leave (from severe overhangs) and Fuery could not wipe off the smile from his face. Falman was as quiet as ever and the Colonel continued his silly antics, day in and day out to pass time.

Riza remained the same outwardly, and Havoc's heart ached at it.

* * *

The next time when Havoc was able to talk to her in private, it was during Fuery's lightning-like small wedding with Sheska. Everyone got drunk as usual, except for the both of them because they did not dare to. He offered to walk her home, since Hughes had sent the very drunk-Colonel home and there would be no one else to intrude into them.

Riza did not reject, and on their silent journey back to her home, it started to drizzle. Havoc cursed softly, not understanding why it rained so much and stomped childishly on the not-yet-dry potholes as he tried to come up with a easy conversation. But before he could say anything, the drizzle had swiftly turned into a heavy rain and both officers, still in their military uniforms ran as fast as they could to her block.

None of them stopped for any shelter, and Havoc lighted a dry cigarette when he finally reached her block.

"Riza."

The First Lieutenant did not look at him and climbed the stairs, "Come up and dry yourself."

And so he did. She made them coffee, black without sugar and in their dripping uniforms, they sat on the ground as Black Hayate wandered restlessly around the visitor. When he finished the coffee, his uniform was already half-dry and he had finished his second cigarette.

"Don't smoke so much," she sipped her coffee with her eyes kept on the sleeping dog.

Havoc nodded blankly, got to the door which she had opened for him, looked right into her beautiful striking eyes and said, "I'll try. I'll really _try_."

* * *

The next time when he was in her apartment, it was several days after Hughes' funeral. He was walking down the streets mindlessly, with no real purpose in mind, thinking about the sudden shocking death and everything when he came to her block.

He stopped for a while, not really knowing what he was doing and went up. She let him in with no questions asked, even though it was already past midnight.

"He told me that he would transfer me," Riza said quietly as she rested her arms on her windowsill and sipped her black, sugarless coffee from the small china cup.

He did not ask why, knowing that she would continue on her own.

"He said that it was dangerous to keep me by his side, now that Hughes is dead. He feels that he has a commitment to Grace and Elycia, and told me that he would not have any time for me," she blew gently at the pungent steam.

"You know that I don't care," she continued and Havoc nodded.

She turned around and stared at him, "What should I do? He's going to transfer me, away from him! What can I do!"

He looked at her face, and hated the way tears marred her lovely pale cheeks. Havoc walked up to her, wiped away her tears with his thumb and hugged her as tightly as possible. He did not really care whether Riza would shoot him, or whether he might get caught for fraternization, or being labeled as a third-party or betrayer.

"He won't," Havoc truly believed that Roy_ would_.

Riza shook her head and silently cried into his smoke-tainted uniform. She felt so helpless, so angry, so lost at the possibility that she might be away from Roy, that she could not resist giving herself into some comfort and love from Havoc. She knew that Havoc was being too handy, she knew that she was using him, yet she really needed a shoulder now. Someone to tell her that everything would be alright, because she could not remain that strong or solid anymore.

Havoc closed his eyes and bravely placed his lips over her head; his heart was thumping so fast and the fear of her rejection was so tangible on his tongue that he locked her in a death-grip.

"I will protect him, as best as I can for you."

* * *

The next time when he was alone with her, was in the military hospital. Riza sat near the bed and tenderly wrapped her hands over his big, strong ones.

"Jean, how are you?" She smiled. "Thank you, thank you so much."

He _smiled_ back at her.

"Roy is unhurt and fine, but he feels bad... Jean..."

Havoc wanted to wipe away her tears; Riza seldom cried.

She placed her hand on his cheek and stared at the tubes that went in and out from his body, "I'm sorry... I'm..."

He wanted to tell her not to cry, and that he had tried his best, to forget about her, to quit smoking, and to protect Roy against the Homunculi. He had only succeeded in the last task, but still...

"Jean," Riza looked at his bandaged, blood-stained head and wished that she was the one with the bullet right in her brain. Seeing Jean lying there on the hospital bed, unconscious with only sounds of the heartbeat-monitor beeping everynow and then, made her felt as if she was the biggest murderer in the world.

That was also the last time that they met.


End file.
